


I spy

by Calire



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Brothers, Gen, Kidlock, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calire/pseuds/Calire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Holmes father is a spy. When he gets shot Mycroft has to find something for his little brother to do while they wait for him at the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I spy

Their father had been on a mission for the past four months, incognito. They didn’t heard from him once.  
And now this.  
August was ending and the trees were losing the first leaves, the wind starting to bite.

Mycroft was reading in his father’s study when his mother called for him from the sitting room. Her expression was tense and her hands were clutching the cup of tea “Go wake your brother and get him dressed. Your Daddy has been shot, we’re going to the hospital.” her voice, though, was firm and cold. The boy straightened his tie, nodded without a word of reply and went for the stairs with a knot in his stomach.  
He opened Sherlock’s door and got in swiftly “Sherlock! Wake up!” he called tightly.  
The kid moved under the blankets and groaned.  
“Sherlock, it’s Daddy” he added in a softer tone, getting just one step closer to the bed.  
The 6-years old jumped up, scrubbing away the sleep from his eyes but immediately held himself, asking in a cooler tone as he smoothed the sheets “Has he already finished his mission?” they were used to much longer periods without their father.  
Mycroft shook his head guiltily, knowing he had tricked his brother, but held the little one’s gaze “No. Daddy has been shot, Sherlock. He’s at the hospital and we need to go to him."  
Sherlock’s shoulders sagged and his brows shot up and close in fear for a brief moment before he regained his composure “Let’s go then, is the car already here?”.  
The older boy squared up and huffed “Not yet, Sherlock. You need to get dressed first”.  
“I don’t need to!” Sherlock whined back.  
Mycroft got to the dresser and pulled out a long sleeved grey polo and black trousers along with clean underwear and socks, laying it neatly at the foot of the bed “Sherlock. Put your clothes on”.  
The kid looked at him defiantly “I don’t like them!”.  
“Now, Sherlock. Daddy is waiting for us”. He knew he had basically stabbed the child but Sherlock wasn’t the only upset kid in there, even though he would never admit it.  
The child glared at him, took the clothes and headed for the bathroom.  
It took them twenty minutes to get to the hospital, no one said a word for the whole time and as soon as they got in the hall their mother disappeared with a doctor, leaving Mycroft alone to look after Sherlock.  
“Come, you didn’t have breakfast. Let’s find something suitable” the older proposed, taking the kid’s hand in his own and pulling him toward the cafeteria, but Sherlock held his ground and didn’t move “You said Daddy was waiting for us! Where is he?” his little voice pitching high as he tugged at his brother’s hand.  
Mycroft sighed as he turned to look down to the child, but before he could talk a blond nurse approached them “Are you two the Holmes boys?” she asked softly, without flinching as Sherlock ignored her and scoffed, still pulling at the older boy’s arm.  
The boy just took Sherlock’s hand with both his own, nodding at the nurse “Yes, are there news from our father?” the young woman clasped her hands together “No, your father is still undergoing surgery. Your mother asked that you wait here until she calls for you. I can have something brought for the two of you from the cafeteria but I’d like you to remain in sight”.  
Mycroft gulped but put on his best polite smile “Yes, sure. Tea and some cake would be lovely, thank you” the nurse nodded and left them be.  
Sherlock tugged at his brother again. Mycroft looked down in discomfort but smiled right after, the child was holding out his arm to be picked up. The older bent down and scooped him up, going to sit in a empty armchair.  
They both went silent until the nurse put the food on the small table beside them and Mycroft handed the paper cup to Sherlock “Be careful, it’s hot. Hold it with both your hands” he reminded the kid, who in return scowled but did as he was told.  
Mycroft managed to get him to eat half piece of cake and drink all of his tea before the child asked “Do we have to wait long?”  
The older one stayed silent for a bit before getting back at him “Maybe”.  
It took a couple of minutes for the boy to ask again in a smaller voice “Can I sleep?” almost as he feared that would hurt his father.  
His brother took off his own wool jacket and draped it around the small kid like a blanket “Yes. I’ll wake you when we can go to Daddy”.  
An hour had already gone by and Sherlock slept for another hour and a half before blinking a couple of times and looking at Mycroft who returned his gaze attentive and vigil. They stayed like that for minutes before Sherlock jumped off his legs “I’m bored!” he exclaimed in his little, stubborn voice but the older boy could see his brother was, instead, rather distressed. He got up too, taking his hand “Let’s get some fresh air, shall we?”.  
Out on the large steps of the hospital Sherlock resisted less than a minute “I’m bored!” he repeated, now kicking Mycroft’s shin.  
The older boy glared down at him ”Stop that”.  
The kid did exactly the opposite.  
“Sherlock. Stop” he asked again, clutching his little hand tighter.  
“You’re not Daddy!” he almost yelled “You can’t tell me what to do!” his little face crumpled in a frown that only half hid the sadness in the big grey eyes.  
Mycroft jumped at the words and his seraphic face fell for just a second, showing a scared boy.  
He rebuilt his facade quickly and didn’t let go of the child in his care. He thought frantically of something for them to do and finally said in an even tone “I spy with my little eye something with a… T”.  
Sherlock frowned at him but calmed down, unable to refuse a challenge. He looked around until he found a small group of trees right in Mycroft’s line of sight “Tree! That was easy! Is it my turn?”.  
Mycroft nodded, amused.  
“I spy with my little eye something with a D!” the child proposed.  
The teen just followed the younger boy’s gaze “Door…”.  
The kid frowned but didn’t protest “Your turn”.  
“I spy with my little eye… something with a B” he proposed back with a small smile.  
Sherlock focused hard, taking his time and searching his surroundings until he pointed excitedly “Bench!”.  
Mycroft complimented him “Very good, up to you”.  
The kid didn’t lose a moment to throw his interrogation “I spy with my little eye something with a N”.  
Again Mycroft followed his gaze but the sight caught the breath in his throat.  
A nurse was coming their way and she was fairly readable, he already knew what she would say. As soon as she approached them he tightened the grip on his brother’s hand.  
“The Holmes boys?” she asked quietly and they both nodded at once “I’m sorry to inform you that your father didn’t make it through surgery. The doctors did all they could but his conditions were critical”.  
The older boy felt Sherlock squirm in his grasp and try to move away. He motioned for the nurse to leave them and crouched down to look at his brother.  
“I want to see Daddy” the child said, stomping his foot on the ground.  
“We can’t see Daddy anymore, Sherlock. He’s gone” he explained, bottling all his feelings deep down to keep his mask intact.  
Sherlock narrowed his eyes “I want to see him! He’s never home!” now his was more a whine than a request, he had understood what they told him.  
Mycroft clenched his jaw and grasped the young boy by the shoulders “He left us, Sherlock. He didn’t care of us, because caring is not an advantage”.  
He saw his brother’s eyes well up with tears but a minute later his pale face was unreadable and when the small lips moved he didn’t know what to expect.  
“You didn’t guess, so it’s my turn again and I’m winning!” Sherlock chimed petulantly “I spy with my little eye something with a S”.  
Mycroft let go of him, blinked a few times, got up taking his hand again and looked around.


End file.
